


I don't wanna die, but I don't wanna live like this

by cantdrawshaw



Category: Power Rangers (2017)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Anorexic Kim, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/F, Fainting, Intentionally Not Eating, POV Second Person, Pre-Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, but aren't quite there yet, they talk about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 06:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantdrawshaw/pseuds/cantdrawshaw
Summary: It starts like this, with Amanda poking your stomach, her fingers warm on the skin that’s exposed in your new bikini.“You might want to start laying off the carbs there, Kimmy,” she says, staring pointedly at the cheese fries you had just purchased at the snack bar. “You’re looking a little…pudgy.”Another poke.Or: Kim struggles with an eating disorder. The alien superpowers don't really help in that regard.





	I don't wanna die, but I don't wanna live like this

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for this include: eating disorders, anorexia, intentionally not eating, and body image issues, as well as mentions of suicidal thoughts/themes of depression that are consistent with Kim's character in the movie. Please proceed carefully if any of those things might put you in a bad place. But I wrote this because I needed it, so I figured someone else might too.
> 
> Title and quote from "feel something" by Bea Miller.
> 
> I gave Kim supportive parents in this because she deserves good things.

_Can you tell me a secret? Can you tell me what’s wrong with me?_

…

It starts like this, with Amanda poking your stomach, her fingers warm on the skin that’s exposed in your new bikini.

The one that you had been so excited to try out ever since you bought it last week, so you jumped at the chance when Amanda invited you to come to the pool with her that morning.

“You might want to start laying off the carbs there, Kimmy,” she says, staring pointedly at the cheese fries you had just purchased at the snack bar. “You’re looking a little… _pudgy_.”

Another poke.

You frown, looking down at your stomach. You look the same as you always have, and the fries are calling your name in the way that only a day at the pool in the hot sun can.

Amanda must see the hurt flash across your face because she throws an arm around your shoulder. “Aw, c’mon. I don’t mean it like that. I’m just looking out for you. You know you’re going to have to start watching your weight if you want to stay at the top of the pyramid. Especially after this last growth spurt.”

That hits a sore spot. It’s true; you’d shot up a good five inches or so just since the beginning of the year. You’re still trying to get used to how gangly your limbs suddenly are, and the fact that you’re now almost as tall as your mother.

You huff out a sigh. Amanda may have a point. In the midst of the horrors that are middle school and puberty, gymnastics and cheer are the only things that make you feel okay about your body. And you and Amanda are aiming to be co-captains together, and you certainly won’t make it there if you’re the heavyweight of the team.

“You’re right. Gotta stay at the top.”

You throw the untouched container of fries in the trash, despite the rumbling in your stomach.

Amanda smiles at you, and you smile back.

…

From that day on, you find yourself listening intently as the girls on your team talk about the latest diet trends. You page through magazine after magazine, hoping to gain some of the celebrities’ secrets, with their flat stomachs and their slim hips. Counting calories becomes an obsession, along with watching your carbs and monitoring your fat intake.

You skip dessert at dinner the night after your pool day with Amanda. And then again the next night, and the next, until eventually your parents stop offering it to you altogether. You tell your mom you just don’t have as much as a sweet tooth anymore when she asks, an explanation she seems to accept without further questioning.

You try to get away with eating smaller and smaller portions at the dinner table, but you quickly learn there’s only so many times you can play the _I had a big lunch today_ card before the probing gets too overwhelming.

You realize anyway that family dinners aren’t the meal to mess with. Lunch at school comes with much less supervision, and the bonus of steadfast support from all your friends, who are all partaking in their own “diets.”

“God, Kimmy, I don’t know how you’re doing it,” Amanda tells you one day. “You’ve been looking so good lately. You have all the boys practically _drooling_ over you.”

Yeah, lunch is definitely the easiest meal to skip.

Breakfast isn’t much of a challenge either. Most days, your parents are hurrying out the door before you even come downstairs. They trust you enough to get ready and get to school on time on your own. Even when they are there, drinking a glass of juice and grabbing a quick granola bar before you rush out the door is enough to appease them. And these are easy enough to stash in the bottom of your locker, where they sit forgotten until you have so many that people start to notice. From then on, your locker is the go-to whenever somebody needs a snack after practice.

And it continues like this, through the end of middle school and into high school, until it becomes so second nature that you barely remember what life was like before.

What you were like before.

Before your days were an endless repetition of school _and_ practice on barely one meal a day and rolling your eyes when the teacher lectures about proper nutrition in health class and standing in front of the mirror in your bra, pinching the skin over your ribs until you’re satisfied it’s only skin there, nothing more.

And so, by the time you realize that maybe you’ve gone a little too far – when just the warm-up laps in gym class leave you a sweaty, panting mess and you get so light-headed and dizzy that you almost collapse in the middle of practice two weeks in a row – it’s already too late. You’re in it too deep.

By then, you’re dating Ty, and whenever you feel doubt start to prickle in your mind, whenever you consider that confessing the truth to someone might be the right thing to do, he’s there with his reassurances of how beautiful you are. How much he likes the way you look in your skin-tight jeans and how your preference of a small salad over any kind of fast food makes you seem so sophisticated, so grown up.

His words only encourage you to keep doing what you’re doing, only now it’s even better because when you decide you don’t want to finish something, you can slide it over to Ty. Your friends gush over how cute a couple you two are whenever you do this, and every time, you force a smile and ignore the way your empty stomach aches.

You remind yourself that you’re doing this for your own good, but the words feel emptier each time you repeat them in your head.

…

Then suddenly sophomore year is over and it’s summer again. Amanda’s parents drop you off after practice one day, and you find your mom sitting alone in the kitchen with her forehead creased in worry, an open envelope on the table in front of her.

“Kimberly,” she says. “I’d like to talk with you.”

The money your parents had placed into your lunch account at school had sat there mostly untouched this past year. And it was such a large amount, it turns out, that the school had sent a check with a full refund and a letter recommending less money be put in the account for the future if packing continues to be your preferred option.

“I know you don’t bring your own lunch. You tell us every day what you supposedly ate at school,” your mom explains in a careful tone. She’s looking at you like you’re fragile, like you might try to bolt at any moment. “I’m not mad. Just concerned. And if I’m being honest, I have been for a while. You’re so skinny, sweetheart. Too skinny.”

You can feel the genuine concern rolling off her in waves, but you’ve been lying, hiding this for so long that just like any other scared teenager faced with an unwanted confrontation, you lash out.

The fight that results is ugly and messy and leaves you sobbing uncontrollably until you get so woozy that your mother has to carry you to the sofa in the living room. She picks you up like you weigh nothing and it only makes you cry harder.

In the end, you confess all of it to her: all the skipped meals and forcing yourself into too-tight cheer outfits, the voices in the back of your head that you haven’t been able to shut up since that day with Amanda at the pool.

And your mom just holds you, and listens, and the next day she takes you to see a doctor, after she calls to inform your coach that you’ll be taking some time off for a “family emergency.”

You get a therapist after that. One you see twice a week. And although you were sure it was a terrible idea at first, you find you love going to your sessions. Love having someone completely unbiased that you can talk to, someone who actually listens to what you have to say.

You get put on a nutrition plan, and after the first few hard weeks, your appetite starts coming back. Your meals are carefully supervised by your parents, but they do so in a way that isn’t overbearing. You find it actually brings you closer together.

Your mom has a private talk with your coach, and another with the school administrators in the fall. She also takes you shopping, helping you pick out clothes that you feel comfortable in, and make you feel more comfortable with yourself. Your dad takes the mirror in your room down off the wall after you insist and places it in the garage for storage. He helps you pick out a painting you like to replace it.

When your team gets new uniforms a couple of weeks later, ones that have a looser fit and cover up more skin, you let out a sigh of relief. You ignore all the complaints coming from the other girls, and don’t even feel ashamed when you ask the coach for the next size up from what you had listed yourself as at the beginning of the season.

It isn’t an easy battle from there, though. Junior year comes with its own brand of academic pressure and dealing with what you now recognize as a full-blown eating disorder on top of that is rough. But you lean on the support of your therapist and parents, and you communicate as honestly as you can about how you’re feeling with them, and it helps.

Before you know it, you’ve gained some weight, and you start feeling so much better.

More energetic.

Happier.

…

You should’ve known you’d find some way to mess it all up again.

It’s what you’re good at.

But you would never have imagined something like this happening. That’s all you can think when you get the text that changes everything.

A grainy photo of Amanda and Ty in the back corner at a party, in a _very_ compromising position. A party that you had been invited to, an invitation which you had politely declined, as it was on a much-needed therapy night after a long week.

You think about your confession to Ty a few weeks prior, when you had been honest about what your twice-weekly appointments actually were. You think about his quick reassurance that your health was more important than spending time with him, and you realize that maybe this has been going on behind your back for a while.

Then all you see is red, and you stop thinking.

And then you’ve sent Ty the Picture, and punched him in the face, and been forced to sit in the principal’s office as Amanda’s father gets called in.

You’re put in detention, kicked off the cheer squad, and have your car keys taken by your parents.

Things start to get dark again after that.

That first day in detention, after your former friends leave you alone in that bathroom, for a moment you look down at the scissors they left behind, and you consider something you’ve never really thought of.

That the world just might be better off without you.

You cut your hair instead, but the idea stays with you. Haunts you for a while.

You lie to your therapist about the reasoning behind your sudden hairstyle change when your dad drops you off for your session that afternoon. It’s almost too easy, the way the lie slips off your tongue, and it should be a red flag.

But you’re already losing yourself again.

But then, before you get the chance to spiral too far, you’re suddenly a superhero with four other kids. You only get eleven days to train with them before the horror that is Rita Repulsa attacks your town, but you bond with them in that short time. And in the end, after the five of you win, you realize that maybe you’ve found something to _live_ for.

…

It takes a while, after Rita’s attack, for things to settle down in Angel Grove once again. In the meantime, you and the other Rangers help with the rebuilding and cleanup efforts and continue to learn how to adjust to your powers now that you all can freely morph.

It’s an adjustment that you all struggle with, but you especially. Because suddenly your metabolism is over double what it used to be, according to Alpha-5 and Billy’s calculations.

It’s over double what it used to be, but your relationship with food is as strained as ever.

Billy comes up with a recommended nutritional plan for the five of you now that you’re superhuman and training every chance that you get. It’s this that first triggers you, and your palms start to sweat in a way that has nothing to do with the heat in the Pit as you look over the list of daily recommendations.

The calorie count Billy’s suggesting for you alone makes you feel ill, and you almost whip out your phone right then and there to schedule an emergency appointment with your therapist before you remember that you can’t.

Her office had been demolished in the attack, and while no one had been hurt, her practice had moved to the next town over for a few months until the building could be rebuilt. With you grounded from using your car, you knew it would put a strain on your parents to make the drive twice a week, even though they were willing. You had told them that you would be fine in the meantime, and they had agreed on the short break, seeing how much better you had been doing lately.

And you know you’re still allowed to reach out, even if it’s just over text. Your therapist has talked you through some sudden bad moments like that many times before.

But you remember how you lied to her the last time you saw her, and it stops you. You clench your fist over your phone in your pocket and you don’t take it out. The packet Billy had printed out to give to each of you crumples in your other hand.

“You okay, Kim?”

You blink back to awareness from your thought spiral to find Trini staring at you, her head tilted in concern.

You curse inwardly. That’s another thing that’s new, this thing with Trini. At first, you were pretty sure she hated you – and you couldn’t blame her there – but then you started hanging out before training and seeking her out during school. Maybe how quickly you two bonded is due to the connection you share through the Ranger Grid or whatever Alpha-5 and Zordon keep blathering on about, but you also think there’s something _more. _Because Trini seems to notice every little thing about you, things nobody has ever noticed before, and if it was just a Ranger thing, then wouldn’t the guys notice too?

But whatever it is, it remains unspoken between you two. You’re hardly in any place to acknowledge it right now, and Trini doesn’t seem too keen on bringing it up either.

“Kim?”

Uh oh. You still haven’t answered her. And now the guys are turned your way too, and even Alpha-5 is looking at you, his robot eyes showing something way too akin to worry than you think should be possible.

“I’m fine,” you lie. Your fingernails dig into your palm as you clench your fist to try to hide the way you’re suddenly shaking. “But I need to get going. I just remembered something I have to do at home.”

Jason claps his hands together. “It’s cool. We’re pretty much done for the day anyway.”

You feel a spark of triumph as the boys turn away from you to gather their things, knowing you’ve convinced them.

You pretend you don’t feel the way Trini’s stare burns into the back of your neck as you make your way out of the ship. And it’s terrible of you, but you’re overwhelmingly grateful that she’s not much of a talker when it comes to feelings, as she doesn’t say anything else as you all part ways for the day.

You skip dinner that night.

You claim you’re not feeling well. Your mom puts a hand on your forehead and your face must look _just_ wretched enough, because all she says is, “Why don’t you go get some rest, sweetheart.”

You lie in bed that night unable to sleep as all the self-loathing that had momentarily been pushed down by you becoming a Power Ranger washes over you, crushing you like a wave.

You can’t help but wonder if it’s going to be enough to drown you this time.

…

And so, it begins again.

The lying. The not eating. The sneaking food into a napkin in your lap so you can throw it out as soon as no one’s looking.

The hiding it from everyone. The denial to yourself.

You keep up appearances just enough at home so that your parents don’t worry. You get better at pretending you’ve cleaned off your plate, when in reality you’ve eaten less than half. And it’s easier, now that you have friends again, to lie and say you ate while you were hanging out with them.

It’s scary, how easy it is to fall back into your old habits. How quickly you spiral this time.

Just over a year of feeling better – of healing – all reversed in a matter of weeks.

It’s enough to convince you that it had all been one big lie you were telling yourself. That this is who you really are, and you’re never going to change.

Of course, there are differences this time around. On one hand, you don’t have cheer to fall back on, but you also don’t have friends who encourage your poor choices anymore either.

Instead, you have friends who actually care about you and you’re too afraid to tell them the truth.

You had gotten close, that night with Jason when you confessed what had happened with Amanda and Ty. You had gotten some of it out, but not all, and then Rita had attacked Trini, and _Billy had died, _and you all had way more important things to worry about. And now you’re too afraid of seeing the look in Jason’s eyes when he realizes that you really are just as broken as you claimed that night.

But they notice when you pick at the food on your lunch tray more than you actually eat it. Especially Jason and Trini. Zack is still absent from school most of the time and Billy has his own lunchtime routine that keeps him preoccupied with his own food. But Jason starts offering you some of his own lunches when his mom packs for him, so you try to play it off like it’s just the terrible cafeteria food that’s the problem.

Trini is harder to deflect, and you catch her staring at you like a puzzle she’s trying to solve almost every day now. But you find she’s easily distracted by a flash of your smile and some teasing remark. She gets all grumpy in that adorable bashful way of hers when you do that, and then you find yourself able to breathe a little easier until the bell rings.

It gets harder and harder to hide it during training, though. You get tired much quicker than the others do, and your reflexes slow so much that you feel like the world’s pinkest punching bag at the end of every spar session.

You’re pretty sure it’s blatantly apparent to all your friends that something’s wrong, but you just keep denying everything whenever they try to ask. 

One day, you take a hit when you’re sparring with Zack. You can tell he pulls his punch at the last second when he realizes your guard is down, but his fist still connects, and you go down harder than the force should have warranted.

You’re back on your feet in the next second, but you’re shaky and there are stars swimming dizzily in front of your vision.

Zack reaches a hand out to steady you, letting the visor fade out of his helmet. “Whoa, dude. You good?”

Your armor disappears completely and it’s not of your own violation. “Yeah. Just need a water break.”

You slip out of his grasp and take a wavering step towards where you left your bag. You’re relieved when all Zack does is shrug and wander off to where the others are, in search of a new partner probably.

You drop to the ground when you get to your bag and rest your arms on your knees as the world spins around you. You take a sip from your water bottle, but it doesn’t really help, so you just close your eyes and will yourself not to pass out. Your chest aches where Zack hit you, even though your suit should have taken the brunt of the impact.

You don’t know how much time passes, but the next thing you’re aware of is someone sliding down beside you. You crack open an eye to see Trini, her mouth twisted up like she’s contemplating her words.

You speak before she gets the chance to. “I’m fine. Just tired today.”

It sounds hollow even to your own ears.

“Okay.” Trini nods crookedly, and you know she doesn’t believe you in the slightest. “I just…” She clears her throat, leans a little into your side. “I want to make sure you know you can talk to me. About _anything_. If you want to.”

She bites her lip and looks down at the ground, toeing a pebble with her shoe. Before you can answer, she hastens to add, “Or any of the guys. It doesn’t have to be me. We’re all here for you.”

You feel a surge of guilt for making her think that you wouldn’t choose her, that of all of your friends, she isn’t the one you’ve grown closest to. And you know talking would be good for you. Not only do you think it would it help you, but also reassure her that she isn’t crazy, reading signals that aren’t there.

You lean even further into her, your skin soaking up a little bit of her warmth. “I like talking with you.”

Trini stops squirming with that. Smiles. “Yeah?”

And you open your mouth again, to say who knows what, but right then, there’s a resounding thud from further in the cave and Billy’s voice rings out in a whoop. “I did it! I did it, y’all!”

You both look up to see Zack sprawled out on his back on the ground, Billy doing a victory dance over him with Jason laughing uproariously in the background.

By the time you turn back to Trini, you’ve lost all your nerve. So you just smile instead. “Thanks, Trini.”

That night, you find the bruise on your chest when you take off your bra. It’s dark and patchy, and still looks as bad and hurts just as much the next day despite your accelerated healing abilities.

You try not to think about it, the same way you try not to think about how you can’t morph into your armor now either, no matter how many times you try.

…

It’s a few days later in school when you finally push yourself way past your limits.

You’ve bone-deep exhausted despite how much you’ve been sleeping, and your joints ache with every move you make. You’re stretched so thin with the act of holding yourself together that you think you might just snap at any moment.

And you do snap, during lunch that day. You’re sitting at the table between Trini and Zack and you can’t even summon the energy to pick up the fork on your plate. Your head is pounding and the black and white box that plagues your dreams is mocking you from the bag of chips on Jason’s tray. It sets your teeth on edge, and you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to stomach anything even if you were hungry right now.

You notice the conversation around you suddenly die down and Jason nod in your direction as his eyes quickly dart from you to Trini. Trini won’t meet your gaze and Zack clears his throat uncomfortably as Billy starts to neatly fold his empty sandwich wrapper to give his hands something to do.

“What?” The question comes out much harsher than you mean it to, but you’re already irritated enough without your friends acting weird as it is.

Trini shifts beside you. “We uh, we were just wondering if you were planning on eating anything today.”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins.

An intervention in the middle of the crowded cafeteria is not how you want this conversation to happen, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

You’re on your feet and pushing away from the table before any of them can stop you from bolting like a cornered animal. You rush out the lunchroom doors and don’t stop even as you hear a distant call of, “Kim, wait!”

The closest bathroom is down the hall around the corner. You move there on autopilot and lean over a sink as your legs threaten to buckle under you. Your heart is pounding alarmingly fast and your coin pulses hot in your jacket pocket as it senses your distress. It’s the most you’ve felt from it in days.

Before you get a chance to pull yourself together, the bathroom door swings open and something in your chest surges, hoping it’s Trini coming after you. But then a pair of flats that definitely don’t belong to Trini step up beside you and your heart sinks as you look up and meet Amanda’s eyes in the mirror.

Her face is devoid of any signs of warmth as she pulls a tube of lip gloss from her bag and applies a fresh coat. “Oh, is it time for the little bulimic to break down again?” she asks condescendingly. “I won’t take too long then.”

Your mouth gapes. Of all the things you think she’d say to you since she broke off your friendship, this isn’t it. “What are you– I-I’m _not_–”

She caps the gloss and shoves it back in the pocket of her bag as she spins to face you. “It’s okay, Kimmy. Ty told me all about your little _problem_.”

Anger flares hot in your gut at that. _“I’m not bulimic!”_ you insist. “And anyway, what I told Ty was private!”

She raises an eyebrow, her expression suddenly steel. “Oh, like you have any right to talk about privacy.”

It hits you like a slap in the face, and you wish she had just done that instead. You know it would actually hurt you right now.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Your voice cracks. “I just found out that my boyfriend was cheating on me – with _you_ – and I reacted!”

Amanda studies her nails. “Yes, well, you know what they say: two wrongs don’t make a right. But I think it turned out much worse for you in the end anyway.” She runs her eyes up and down your body pointedly. “I mean, look at you.”

You shrink under her gaze, your skin itching. You pull your jacket tighter against yourself like it can cover up all the flaws you don’t want anyone else to see.

“I was struggling for years and you never noticed,” you say brokenly. “And I probably deserve everything I get – all the stuff people write on my locker and the death glares from the team – but you want to know the worst part? None of that even begins to compare to how much I already hate myself.”

Amanda’s face drops and for a second you see a shadow of your former friend. But then she’s tightening the strap of her bag and moving towards the door.

“Have fun with that.”

Trini comes in maybe thirty seconds later, finds you staring blankly at yourself in the mirror.

“Hey, I know you probably want space, but I just saw Amanda come out of here. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you tell her for the thousandth time. You can’t help it; the response is automatic. Even though it feels like you’re about to start crying any second now.

Trini surprises you this time, grabbing your hand and soothing her thumb over your knuckles. “I know that’s what you keep saying. But I also know that your face is telling a completely different story.”

A tear escapes from your eye without your permission. She lets go of your hand so she can wipe it away, and you see that she’s carrying your bag on her other arm. You had fled the table so quickly you hadn’t even realized you left it behind. The gesture of her grabbing it for you touches you so much that you stagger, leaning into her hand until she has to wrap an arm around you to steady you both.

“Okay,” you breathe out into her shoulder. “I’m not fine.” You sag even further with the admission, under the weight that’s been hanging over your head for too long now.

Trini holds you tighter, and you let the pressure ground you. “I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have called you out like that in front of the boys. We’re just worried about you,” she says. “_I’m _worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. I know – I know I owe you all an explanation. But I can’t talk about it right now, Trini. Not here. It’s too much.”

Trini runs a hand through your hair when your voice cracks. “How about this? We go to bio now, since the bell’s about to ring, and then when school’s over, we can go to your house. Just you and me. And we can see how you’re feeling then.”

You think about it for a second. There’s a voice in the back of your head that’s screaming for you to take the chance to get help. Because you know deep down that you don’t want to keep living like this.

“Okay,” you agree.

She gives one last squeeze and pulls back just as the bell that signals the end of your lunch period sounds out in the hallway. She holds a hand out for you with a smile, and you take it with a small one of your own.

Her palm is warm, soft in your own. It feels nice in a way you haven’t felt in a long while.

“Okay,” Trini repeats, and you let her lead you all the way to biology.

…

And you meant it, what you promised Trini. Except you don’t make it through the rest of the school day. You don’t even make it through half of the next period.

You’re doing a lab in bio that day, so after attendance is taken, you all march down the hallway to one of the science lab rooms. You start to feel weird on the walk over, and the feeling doesn’t abate as you sit down at a lab bench next to Trini and listen as your teacher starts the lecture on today’s experiment.

You find yourself unable to focus on the directions as your headache intensifies out of nowhere. You rub your temple and try loosening the band of your goggles. It doesn’t help, but it’s all you can do to keep from squeezing your eyes shut and dropping your head down to the table. Your heart rate spikes suddenly and it makes the bruise on your chest ache as the world starts to go fuzzy at the edges of your vision.

You think you hear Trini say something next to you, but your ears are ringing, and your tongue is too heavy in your mouth to ask her to repeat herself. You turn on your stool to look at her, and the last thing you see is her eyes widening in shock before everything else turns to a blur.

You don’t think you’re out for too long because when you wake up, Trini’s sitting on the floor of the lab with your head in her lap. You can hear the whispered murmurs of the other students and your teacher’s louder voice from somewhere above you.

“Everybody give her some space. The nurse is on her way. Keep that air going, Trini. Looks like she’s coming around.”

You realize that Trini’s using her bio folder to fan your suddenly overheated face, now sans-goggles. Your stool is toppled on its side near your feet and there’s a sharp ache in the back of your skull that lets you know you hit your head somewhere on the way down.

You groan and feel the breeze shift as Trini moves some hair behind your ear. “Hey, Kim. You’re going to be okay. I’m right here.”

The nurse gets there a few minutes later. There’s a bit of a commotion from the other students as you’re lifted off the floor and away from the softness of Trini’s lap. You moan as you’re helped into a wheelchair and your head lolls back to see Trini gathering up your things and placing them into your bookbag, which she shoulders over her own.

You vaguely register the nurse talking to you as she wheels you out into the hallway. You let out a whimpered affirmation that you’re with her and only notice that Trini’s walking behind you when she starts filling in the gaps of what happened after it’s apparent that you’re in no shape to answer any questions.

You start to feel sick about halfway to the nurse’s office. You gag as your stomach twists, but you know there’s nothing in it but acid. The nurse stops and something cool gets pressed against your forehead; it lets you swallow down the bile and you pant out a shaky breath. You feel better after a few minutes and you’re able to take in more of what’s going on around you. The journey starts up again, and you’re grateful you don’t pass anyone else in the hallway on the way there.

The nurse wheels you into the main examination room and has you take a few sips of lukewarm water to see if you can keep it down. You let her know in a raspy voice that the nausea has passed, the first thing you’ve been able to say since you had – what exactly? Fainted?

The next quarter-hour is spent getting your vitals, checking your pupils, and looking for signs of a concussion. You’re given some ibuprofen when you mention that you’ve had a headache all day. She has you take it with some apple juice to give you some sugar, and after a ten-minute wait, checks your vitals again. They must look a little better the second time because she moves you into a private room, she and Trini helping you lay down with your feet propped up on some pillows so they’re higher than your head.

Trini places your bag on the floor next to the bed when you’re settled and the nurse nods her head at her. “Thank you so much for helping us out, Trini dear. Let me get you a hall pass so you can get back to class.”

Trini looks at you with worry in her eyes and must see your own panic claw across your face. “I’d like to stay with Kim, if that’s okay.”

The nurse looks hesitant, so you beg. “Please.”

She lets out a sigh and moves a chair into the room so Trini can sit beside you. “You can stay so long as you let her get some rest. Kim, I’m going to call your parents now. Do you need anything else before I do?”

You shake your head. “Call my mom, please,” you tell her. Your dad’s work is further away from the school and you’d rather your mom be the one to confront you initially anyway. 

She gives a nod of consent and then it’s just you and Trini. You blink slowly at her, feeling yourself getting sleepy after everything that’s happened.

Trini’s hand reaches out like she wants to touch you again, as you hear the nurse get ahold of your mom from further in the office. She pulls back and twists her fingers into her shirt sleeve instead and looks into your eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Tired.” It doesn’t even begin to describe how miserable you currently feel, but it’s all you can say. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just relax. We’ll talk later.”

You nod and let your eyes slip shut, and you’re asleep before the nurse even finishes the conversation with your mom.

…

You wake to gentle fingers stroking your cheek and open your eyes to find your mom sitting beside you. You don’t know how long it’s been, but Trini isn’t in the room anymore and you wonder if the nurse finally made her go back to class.

Your mom notices you’re awake. She’s looking at you with so much love and tenderness in her eyes, but the heavy concern is clear on her face as well. “Hey, sweetheart,” she says softly.

You burst into tears.

She moves closer, pulls you into a hug when you sit up to reach for her. “What’s the matter, Kim? Are you in pain?”

You shake your head and bury your face into her shoulder. You are, but that’s not it right now. “I’m sorry,” you say in between sobs. “It got so bad again and I- I didn’t tell you because I said I would be fine for a couple months by myself, but I wasn’t fine, and I was too scared to tell you that I’m a failure and _I’m sorry.”_

Your mom shushes you, rocking you back and forth and rubbing circles into your back until the worst of your breakdown is over. You take a few deeps breaths as soon as you’re able to and press your forehead against her collarbone. Crying hasn’t done your headache any favors.

She gently pushes you back so she can cup your cheeks in her hands. “You are not a failure, Kimberly Ann. You’ve had a setback. Sometimes those are part of the recovery process just as much as the victories are. You are going to get through this, and your father and I are going to be with you every step of the way.”

You sniff and look away as your chin quivers again. You don’t know why you were so afraid of how your mom would react when she found out you slipped up.

She grabs a tissue box from somewhere and helps you clean your face up. You know you must look a mess, but you’re way past the point of caring.

“I need help monitoring my meals again,” you tell her as she throws the used tissues in the garbage. “And I need to go back to therapy.”

“We can do that.” She says it with such conviction that you feel a spark of hope for the first time in months. “Do you feel okay enough for the ride home now? I’ve got the car out front.”

You nod and move so you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. Sometime after you fell asleep, someone had taken your shoes off and covered you with a blanket. You don’t know why, but you have the feeling it was Trini, and it makes you smile.

Your mom helps you slip your shoes back on and puts your backpack over her shoulder before leading you back out into the main office. The nurse smiles from her desk when she sees you, but your eyes are drawn to the figure sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. Your heart gives a little thud when you realize Trini’s still there. She stands as well, relief in her eyes as she takes you in.

Your mom rests a hand on Trini’s shoulder. “Would you like a ride home, Trini? It’s the least I can do.”

It’s then that you look at the clock and realize school had ended twenty minutes ago. “I slept for that long?” you ask no one in particular.

Your mom runs a reassuring hand through your hair. “I couldn’t get out of my meeting until about 1:30, and you were pretty much dead to the world when I got here. We figured we’d let you sleep,” she explains.

You turn to Trini. “You waited the whole time?”

Her mouth turns up in that adorable smirk of hers. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Hart.”

All you can do is smile in gratitude. “Thanks.”

“Yes,” your mom echoes your tone, leaning down to press a kiss to Trini’s cheek. “Thank you for being there for my daughter.”

Trini blushes fiercely, and if you were feeling any better you would probably tease her for it. But then you remember all the times she’s confessed to you how she doesn’t feel like she can even be herself at home, let alone talk to her mom honestly, and you just let her have this moment. You take her hand instead.

Your mom talks with the nurse for a few minutes, and after thanking her profusely for her help and a promise to be in touch with an update later, you all head out to your mom’s car. You climb in the back with Trini, and neither she nor your mom comment when you lean into her side and rest your head on her shoulder.

The drive to her house is mostly silent, save for Trini telling your mom where to turn. You’re stopped in her driveway before you know it, so you pull her in for one last hug.

“I’ll text you,” you promise. Then you lean in and whisper low enough that your mom won’t hear. “Maybe you can come over later?”

She nods subtly. “Sounds good.”

Your mom calls out the window while she moves toward her house “Have a good night, Trini. Thanks again.”

Trini waves from the front porch, and your mom pulls off once she’s made it inside.

Your dad is already there when you make it home. He gives you a long hug, and then the three of you sit down in the living room to talk. You’re honest with them about it all, short of telling them about the alien superpowers that had contributed to your relapse in the first place.

You’re honest about how dishonest you’ve been since you stopped seeing your therapist, how low you let yourself sink, and how you probably would have let yourself keep sinking if your body hadn’t given out first.

One call to your therapist and a lot of tears on your part later, they call it a night after seeing how the day has taken its toll on you. Your mom gets you some more painkillers for your head and you even manage to down a cup of broth before you take them. Then she helps you up to your room, where you turn down the offer of a hot bath in favor of pulling on a pair of sweatpants and crawling into bed.

You fall asleep again, waking up hours later, after the sun has already set.

You check your phone for the first time since the morning, wincing at the bright screen in the darkness of your room. You turn the brightness down to find a whole slew of messages from your friends, most of them well-wishes from the boys hoping that you feel better.

Billy had apparently seen you being taken to the nurse’s office from his English class, and you send him an embarrassed face and the promise that you’ll talk with him soon. You send the same message to Zack and Jason, letting them know that you’re okay for now.

You linger over the text screen with Trini for a lot longer. In the end, you send her a simple message: _Fell asleep again. Is it too late for you to come over?_

She texts back right away. _That’s okay. On my way._

There’s a tap on your window less than two minutes later and you jump, dropping the phone onto your face. She at least has the decency to look a little ashamed at startling you after you turn your lamp on and get up to open the window.

“Sorry. I may have super-speeded over here.”

You play off the flood of embarrassment you suddenly feel with a laugh. “Eager to see me much?”

“Yes,” she declares with an earnestness you weren’t expecting.

You curl back up against the headboard of your bed and pat the spot next to you for her to join. She sits and doesn’t object when you pull the blanket up to cover both of your legs.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. My headache’s gone down some and I had some soup earlier.”

“I’m glad. And how are you feeling-” she double-taps the side of her temple. “-in here?”

“Better,” you repeat, but it’s the honest answer. “I talked with my parents and I’m going to see my therapist tomorrow. But that’s what I want to talk with you about. I want to tell you everything.”

“About that…” Trini fidgets next to you. “Your mom kinda told me a little in the nurse’s office, after I told her what I’ve noticed going on with you, and what happened at lunch today.”

You reach over and stop her twiddling fingers. “She told me. I’m not mad at you. It’s actually really nice to know you were looking out for me,” you admit quietly. “And I’d still like to tell you everything, if that’s okay?”

Trini nods, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she smiles. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, just…” You swallow thickly, suddenly nervous. “Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay? I know it’s a lot and it’s really heavy and–”

“Kim,” she interrupts, grabbing your hand this time. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

You let out a deep breath at the look in her eyes. You can’t really explain what it is, but it makes you feel safe. It’s what draws you to Trini in a way that’s different than with the guys, even though you love them as if they were your own brothers.

“I’m anorexic,” you start. “I’ve been struggling with it since middle school.”

Trini doesn’t flinch away. But you figure your mom had told her that much, so you keep going.

You talk and Trini listens, listens as you spill secrets you’ve never shared outside of your therapy sessions. You even tell her about that day in the bathroom with the scissors, where you really had wanted to die, but figured a haircut was simpler in the end.

You’re laying down by the time you finish. Trini is curled up facing you, and somewhere in the midst of talking, you’ve started running your fingers over the braids on the side of her head. She’s relaxed under your touch so much that it makes you think of a cat purring. The mental image makes you laugh, considering what Trini’s Zord is.

“What?” she asks.

You chuckle again. “It’s nothing. Thanks for letting me talk.”

It’s her turn to play with a strand of your hair. “Thank you for telling me all that. I didn’t– I didn’t realize it was that bad,” she says softly. “I know I can’t really relate to what you’re going through, but I’m here for you. And if there’s anything else I can do to help, just let me know.”

You look into her eyes, and you know she means it.

“Can I admit something?” she asks abruptly. You nod. “I was so scared today. I saw you go completely pale and then you collapsed, and I just… _froze_. By the time my brain caught up with what was happening, you were on the floor, and I panicked so much I almost morphed in front of the whole class.”

“Oh my God,” you laugh. “You did _not_.”

Trini nods, holding up her hand. Her armor ripples over her skin for a second before receding. “This is the second time you’ve made me nearly spill my identity in public. And that means something, right?”

She freezes as if realizing what she just said. “I, I mean– this-” she gestures vaguely between you and her, “-this isn’t just me, right?”

“It isn’t just you, believe me,” you say quickly. “But I don’t think I’m in the right place to really do anything about it now.”

You hear her let out a little sigh as she shifts her head close enough on your pillow that her breath tickles your cheek. “Me neither,” she whispers. “I’m still trying to figure out who I am.”

“And that’s okay,” you say, and you let the words linger in the air for a beat or two. “I think we have time to figure out what this means together.”

She smiles. “I’d like that.”

It’s quiet between you two then and you feel your eyelids begin to droop again despite the two naps you’ve already taken. For her part, Trini doesn’t look like she’s about to move anytime soon either.

“Can you stay?” you ask.

Trini’s brow furrows. “Will your parents get mad if they find out I snuck over here?”

“Not if I tell them I needed to talk to you.”

“And will I bother you when I get up early for school tomorrow?”

“No,” you whisper. “Stay, please.”

Trini sits up and for a second you think she’s about to leave. But she just reaches over to turn the lamp off and then pulls the blanket up so it covers your shoulders. She settles back down, on her back this time, and you scooch over to tuck into her side.

“Goodnight, Kim,” she says.

You smile in the dark. “’Night.”

And then you fall asleep beside her, feeling more hope than you have in a long time.


End file.
